


It's Not a "Thing"

by NervousAsexual



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Oh no I've made it queerplatonic, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29290518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousAsexual/pseuds/NervousAsexual
Summary: It didn't take long for the endless stream of suitors to grate on Hawke's nerves. Luckily, Varric has a good idea.
Relationships: Female Hawke & Varric Tethras, Female Hawke/Varric Tethras
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12
Collections: Hightown Funk 2020





	It's Not a "Thing"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaintLeona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintLeona/gifts).



Here's the thing about money: it doesn't attract a higher quality of men.

I know, right? You'd think the Hightown Estate and the noble title and the big imposing mabari would dissuade some of them, at least, but no. The lesson here: never underestimate the ability of a man to overestimate his own desirability.

Is that a good line? Remind me to ask Varric later.

The worst of the lot was Ser Igmund. Orlesian, stuck-up, didn't even pretend he was interested in the dog. And it wasn't like he did come highly recommended! Mother, of all people, introduced us. I told her I'd rather spend an evening listening to Uncle Gamlen complain about every single thing he ever encountered in his many years of life, but she started going on about how neither of us were getting any younger and the bloodline shouldn't end with me and Maker knew Bethany wasn't meeting any nice young men shut up in the tower like that and in a way I owed it to her to do this because she wouldn't be there if I hadn't been galavanting off in the Deep Roads--those were her exact words, like I'd been sightseeing down there instead of, y'know, getting almost killed for money--and finally I was just like, "It's not worth the effort" and went along with it.

It went about as well as I figured it would. Like I said, he wouldn't even pretend to be interested in the dog, started the whole evening off complaining because of one muddy pawprint on his jacket. He tried to tell me how expensive it was and started in on this "Well, how would you feel if you were just minding your business and suddenly you had goopy gross stuff on you" and I told him some of us had really goopy gross stuff problems, on account of having held our dying baby brother in our arms as we fled the only home we had ever known. That shut him up for a minute, but only for a minute. I tried to convince him to go to The Hanged Man with me and he immediately started going on about how there were so many lowlife refugees in the area and we should go to the Blooming Rose of all places instead. I had to tell him this teeny tiny awkward fact that up until a few years ago I was one of those lowlife refugees and honestly still am. Then it was off on a "You're not like other girls" tangent. I ended up with a migraine and if I were faster on the draw I could have also thrown up on him. Alas, the Tevinter Emperium works fast but upset stomachs work faster.

I figured I'd done my duty, but--and here's the really mind-boggling part--he kept hanging around! Like I said, never underestimate a guy's ability to overestimate himself. He kept turning up with flowers and candy and elaborate proposals for the dumbest dates. It absolutely drove me up a wall.

Wait, wait, we're just getting to the good part. See, I complained about this to everybody who would listen and nobody had any bright ideas. Aveline was all "Tell him you don't like him" like Mother wouldn't stab me for being so blunt. Merrill suggested hiding from him but I know Igmund's type and it would take years for him to get the hint. Fenris offered to kill the guy, which was probably the most helpful suggestion. Brittany said one of her friends failed his harrowing and the templars killed him, which didn't have anything to do with anything but even I know that's way more traumatizing than some rich jerk annoying you and I should probably feel bad complaining about it.

I was relating all this to Varric, just like I'm doing to you--you know Varric, right? House Tethras, funded the Deep Roads expedition, writes all the serials in all the papers--and he actually had a good idea.

"Tell him you already have a partner," he said. "That you're sure he's a very nice young man but regrettably you've already pledged your troth to another and that though you will look back fondly on your time together the time has come to give up your dalliances."

I made him write that down for me because Maker knows I wasn't going to remember all that. But there was just one problem--what happened when he wanted to meet and duel this supposed superior suitor? I could count on one hand the number of men I knew, and nobody would ever believe any of them would want to spend their lives with me. Though it was kind of funny to imagine showing up at the Blooming Rose with an apostate mage or escaped Tevinter slave on my arm...

"I would," Varric says.

And I admit I laughed at that--I know, I know--but he sold it pretty well. Of course, he always sells everything pretty well, but he had a lot of really good points. Points like, the two of us were always hanging around each other anyway, and there'd be no need to brief some other guy on what was happening, and also Varric was technically a respected member of the Merchants' Guild and sort of a noble to boot. You know, House Tethras and that. And I had to admit it was the best idea I'd heard so far, so why not give it a try?

The next time Igmund turned up I told him what Varric had told me and he reacted exactly how I thought he'd react, threatening to "beat this interloper into the next age" and "take this matter to the constables" which seemed like mutually exclusive options to me but whatever. Mother overheard the two of us and wanted to know just who this young man was and was he really appropriate for a "woman of my stature" and I told them both it was Varric, Ma, Varric Tethras was the other man.

Well, Mother clammed right up at that, but of course Igmund had to be exactly the sort of Orlesian prat you'd expect. He started going on about how it wasn't right for a human noble to marry a dwarf, and our children would all be potato-headed half-breeds, and as a Fereldan it was my duty to marry a devout Andrastean, and on and on until all of a sudden it was "Just watch, a dwarf will drag you back to Orzammar and you'll be looked down on and if you wanted to marry a godless heathen why didn't you just marry a qunari," because they were supposed to be good at pleasing women like me.

At that point Mother sicced the dog on him and he exited minus the seat of his pants.

So obviously I was feeling pretty vindicated. But Mother comes up to me and starts talking about how there will be a lot of people like Igmund and can I imagine how they would treat any children we might have and wouldn't it be better for me to marry some human noble with the understanding that the two of us would have children together but be free to seek our pleasures elsewhere?

I told her no, it would not actually matter because I would sooner kiss a darkspawn then have children. Besides, why couldn't she just be happy for me? I found somebody I got along with and he was even somebody of some importance.

And then she says this: "I just don't want to see him break your heart." While I'm trying to figure out what that's supposed to me she says that she couldn't see Varric actually settling down and that even if he did someday he would probably want nice dwarven kids that I couldn't give him.

You would have thought that by this point she would have got the message that I was the one who never wanted to settle down. Ah, well.

But you know, the Varric thing worked so well. Before all this I never understood why people even bothered with romantic-type relationships. It always seemed like so much work, and for what? Somebody to steal all the blankets and ask where you're going all the time? Count me out.

I think Mother suspected the betrothal to Varric thing was just a ploy because she kept bringing other men around. Nobles from all around the Free Marches, military officers from Fereldan, the neighbor's boy who I told her was gay, Ma, he doesn't want to bother with me. She was all, Good. You can both marry to secure the family line and then pursue whatever dalliances you want.

I told the neighbor's boy about this, because hey, she wasn't exactly wrong, but he wasn't interested. He said he would marry Varric, though, if the need arose.

So on and on it went. Only a couple of the new suitors were horribly racist--the one Fereldan officer suggested the two of us and Varric could all hook up together, which, ugh--and most of them accepted that I quote-unquote loved Varric.

There was the one Orlesian noble, some Lord Freyan or whoever, who challenged Varric to a duel for my honor. I know, right? What honor? But he insisted, and of course as the challenged party Varric got to choose the weapons. I kind of expected he'd choose crossbows at twenty paces, since that's his weapon of choice, but I don't think Lord Freyan was prepared to duel with words. It must have been real humiliating for him. I hate to see grown men cry...

Hey, is that brandy for me? Aw, thanks. That's real sweet of you.

Yeah. Sweet.

Yup.

So... this is the part where it gets sad. You remember back a year or so, the dirtbag that murdered all those women and was taking the pieces to... Yeah. That one. I don't know if you know this but the last woman to get killed... Had the same last name as me, right. Well, there's a reason for that. That was, ah, that was my mother.

I don't want to talk about it. I don't like to think about what happened; I just like to remember her as the nosy, irritating, loving, amazing...

Well. Anyway.

The, uh, the stream of suitors dried up a little after that. Probably for the best; I would have stabbed the next man to hit on me. But of course it never really goes away, even after everything that happened. And nobody really knew what to say afterward, least of all me. What was I supposed to say? How was I supposed to tell Bethany? Thank the Maker for Uncle Gamlen, for a change, because what was I going to tell her? "Our mother is dead because I wasn't on top of things?" I let a serial killer just snatch her--why didn't I ever ask to meet the guy? Why did I just assume she would be safe? Why was I such an idiot?

I stayed close to home most days. Where else was I going to go? I didn't deserve to see people or do things or go places, so I laid around on the floor of the estate. Didn't do a lot of sleeping, because I kept dreaming about her. Didn't do a lot of eating, because everything tasted like sawdust. Just sort of... existed, I suppose. It was me and the dog, and honestly I wouldn't have noticed if the dog got possessed by a pride demon.

And then one day there's this knock on the door--I don't answer, of course, because I'm huddled up beside the fireplace ignoring the dog and who cares about answering the door anyway--but then I hear someone picking the lock and if I'd have cared I would have probably stabbed them. But I was thinking, what difference did it make now, so I didn't. If it was a serial killer, then so be it.

Obviously it wasn't a serial killer. It was Varric. He came in and sat down on the floor beside me and neither of us said anything for a while. It was surprisingly nice, not to have to think or talk or do, just to hang around with somebody who didn't want anything but to be near you.

After a while he asks, "Get you something to eat?"

And of course that started me crying.

He can't cook to save his life but he went out somewhere and came back with an entire bucketful of popped corn, which isn't even proper food. I told him that and he said fine, he'd eat it himself. So that night I ate half a bucket of popcorn, and you know something? I could actually taste the butter on it. And when we were done there he said that I looked like shit and the dog looked restless and he was taking the two of us for a walk. I figured I'd let him do what he wanted, so I let him tow me and the dog through Hightown and it was a nice enough evening, just chilly enough that you knew autumn was coming, and he held my hand like it wasn't anything at all. We walked around and around and we came back here, and he paid the bartender to let me use the washtub, and when that was done he sat with me on the bed until I fell asleep. And you know something? I didn't dream about anything at all.

It's funny. We're still not really a "thing," the way Mother wanted me to be a "thing" with somebody, but we're not really what we used to be anymore. It runs a little deeper now, and even though we still live on opposite sides of the city and don't see each other everyday, we're still something.

So, anyway, all this to say that, yes, I do have a boyfriend of sorts, but if you want to buy me a drink...

Oh, there he is now. Varric! Over here!

...anyway, if you want to buy the two of us a drink you go on ahead.


End file.
